For weeks I'll be dreamfree. But once I vaguely remember where my conscious spent the night, the odd memories will come flooding in every morning. Last night was another story maker in a line with every other night this month.

I've noticed a bit of a trend. A few days ago, I was with my boyfriend. It was really good, better than usual. And with my eyes closed, I had a sudden rush thinking I was with someone else. My first response was congratulating myself for doing something so bad. Then I decided I should stop right away because it was SO bad. But before any gyrating had lost rhythm, I realized it was my boyfriend, Mark, and there was no cause for alarm.

Since that night I've had multiple dreams that start with another man. And when I touch this other man, hold onto his arm or let him rest his hand on me, I second guess the action and worry about my loyalty. But when I look again, I'm relieved to see that it's actually Mark. I can continue flirting and just feel lucky that I don't have to stop.

Last night, my story began with Aaron, a co-worker who I believe has a thing for me. We were in a well decorated room with a brightly dressed bed. There was a red comforter, some teal and yellow cylindrical throw pillows, and a headboard that continued up the wall and across the ceiling. It looked like the bed in a makeover your child's room contest.

Anyway, Aaron sat on the bed. I sat next to him and he wrapped his hand on my knee. I held his bicep and the feeling of disappointing recognition dawned on me.


I think I have a guilty concious.